Koi
by Jousting Elf with a Sabre
Summary: Fighting crime isn't easy. Dealing with mall security is worse. Dusty/Bruce 10-year anniversary of The Guise Of Reason one-shot.


Happy Tenth Anniversary of The Guise of Reason release (September 6, 2009)! Enjoy a small token of my love and gratitude for the last 10 years of YOUR love.

Without Further Ado:

**Koi**

* * *

She never meant to get involved. That was her story and she was sticking to it. She sat in the mall security's office, threadbare towel around her shoulders, her hair dripping into a puddle on the floor.

Officer Davis frowned down at her, as if he couldn't think of why a thirty-something would create a large scene in a public place that ended up taking her and four people into a fountain. Particularly when that person was a billionaire. And a Wayne to boot.

"Justine Wayne?" He said, looking at her driver's license. Dusty nodded, staring at his tie clip, trying not to think about how much of a puddle she was making on the floor. Or the fact that she now smelled like Koi.

"The Justine Wayne?" He asked. Dusty looked up.

"As far as I know," she said sweetly. "Is there a problem, officer? My brother should be looking for me by now."

He glared at her, unimpressed.

"Have you been drinking?"

Dusty sighed. She'd been hoping that they'd write it off to billionaire eccentricity. It'd worked fairly well in the past. Buy a hotel? It's okay, they're a billionaire. Adopt a random orphan and marry his sister? It's okay, billionaires are weird. Own a yak? Billionaire.

Of course, none of these things had been done by her.

Maybe it was a Bruce Phenomenon. Rude.

"Ma'am?"

"No, officer, I have not been drinking."

"Have you partaken in any substance that might have altered your state of mind?"

What, like her iron pills that she'd taken that morning? Anemia was a beast when you had to go fight crime.

"No, officer, I have not."

He leaned closer, "Then why, for the love of Harry did you find it necessary to take a swim in the mall pond?" His mustache twitched, and for a split second Dusty was highly tempted to yank it.

She could tell him the truth, of course. She'd been walking the wall, minding her own business, when she saw an arms deal go down. And then turn bad. Bad guy one (the buyer) was talking with bad lady two (the seller). They must have disagreed over price or something, because bad guy one pulled out a small package of plastic explosive, complete with detonator. Going by the look on bad lady two's face, it was not part of the goods.

Dusty had been confronted with two options. First, shout "bomb" and shut the mall down. Risk losing the dealers, and their information, plus raise mass panic and miss her lunch date with Bruce.

Second, "accidentally" break a heel, stumble into both of them and knock them and their bomb into the Koi pond, shorting out the electronics, and prevent the bomb from going off. And containing the explosion if it did.

There were a couple potential snags. First, there were quite a few people around. It was possible that they would notice before she did. Second, there was always the chance that they could set the bomb off before she got there, or that the water could just trigger the explosive and set it off. Third, she was wearing a dress. Fourth, she was technically doing reconnaissance on a money laundering scheme, and the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself.

Yet, as she looked at the man threatening the woman, she knew that deaths now took precedence over white collar crime later. So, she did what she had to.

It had taken her years to perfect the perfect set of heels. They were sleek, ridiculously comfortable, and happened to have been outfitted with a switch that, when activated, gave her ten seconds before the heel would break. She had had to work out the kinks, which had resulted in several sprained and one broken ankle (regrettably not her own—one should never lend out footwear), but she was proud of her work.

Apparently not all the kinks were worked out, because it took eleven seconds instead of ten, which brought her just past the weapons dealers. This necessitated the need to fall backward instead of tripping forward, which also meant that she had a blind spot. So, instead of just falling into the two mercenaries, she also happened to take out a businessman and his wife, and sent them into the shallow fountain as well as falling in herself.

Sloppy. Even now, Dusty wanted to cringe at the mistake, but managed to keep a straight face.

"I tripped," she said, "my heel broke." She kind of felt like she was overselling the 'innocent' thing. Officer Davis didn't disabuse her with his next question.

"I have a Mr. Dalton who claims you elbowed him in the face on purpose," he said. Dusty almost smirked at that one. The arms dealer was more observant that she thought he was. In her defense, it was difficult to hit someone in the eye accurately without looking like you were intending to be accurate. Instead she blinked and shook her head.

"Oh, no! I didn't realize that I'd connected with him! He was trying to help me up, but the bottom of the tank is very slippery. I must have swung back and hit him by accident."

Officer Davis leaned in even closer.

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I am that you had tuna for lunch," she said evenly. His face went a little slack and he backed away, frowning.

"Are you being disrespectful, Mrs. Wayne?" He asked a little testily.

"Not intentionally, officer," she said, "I'm just unsure why I'm being held. My shoe is broken, I fell, and unfortunately knocked some visitors to Gotham into the mall's Koi pond."

"This is the third time this month," he said.

"Apparently Gucci is having quality issues," she said evenly. Office Davis looked at her, and then over at her broken shoe that laid on the table. He looked down at her again, as if trying to find something else to say. Then he sighed.

"Your husband is here to pick you up," he said. She smiled sunnily and stood.

"Oh! Just in time. We have a lunch date," she said conspiratorially, and then squished her way toward the door. Officer Davis followed, sighing. Dusty waited at the door of the office for the officer to open it for her. Once he did, she saw Bruce waiting for her. He looked at her, and the puddle gathering around her feet, and closed his eyes in exasperation for the briefest of seconds before putting on a pitying face, and motioning her closer.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" He asked, pulling her in close for a drippy embrace. The moment that he was close enough, he whispered, "weren't you trying to stay unnoticed?"

She sniffled dramatically, and said, "My heel broke darling. I'm going to have to get a new pair of shoes immediately. This pair keeps breaking." Under her breath she added, "There was an arms deal. Who does an arms deal with plastique in a mall?"

"So you knocked them into the pond?"

"Mrs. Wayne, I'm going to have to give you a verbal warning," Officer Davis said. Dusty and Bruce looked up rather guiltily.

"I beg your pardon?" Dusty asked, "I broke a heel."

"If you don't take the trouble to make more responsible footwear choices, I'm afraid you're a danger to your fellow patrons. Unless this problem is resolved, we can no longer allow you to wear high heels here," he said. Dusty blinked. Bruce blinked.

After a moment of silence, Dusty cleared her throat. "Well, I feel thoroughly chastened. And I can assure you that I will do my best to be careful and considerate to others when I…wear shoes."

Officer Davis either missed the consternation or chose to ignore it.

"Thank you, now you both have a pleasant day."

Dusty and Bruce nodded and turned to leave the office. After they'd left the building (after a brief stop into an outlet to grab a pair of (non heeled) slippers for Dusty) Bruce leaned in close.

"Well, I hope you learned your lesson."

Dusty snorted, "Never get involved in an arms deal gone bad?"

"Don't wear high heels while doing so."

Dusty snapped her fingers, "Ah, got it. So next time I need to go as a twenty-something and wear tennis shoes."

"I was thinking more go for sporty chic."

"I could go for sporty chic."

They stopped by the car. Bruce came over to the passenger's side, pulling the door open for her. He leaned in, touching her forehead with his. Dusty smiled, and breathed in, the comforting scent of his cologne gently enfolding her.

"I am so glad you're okay," he said, "It's been almost seven years now, and I still never get used to that call…"

Dusty smiled gently, "It was a mall cop, Bruce. And I was in custody, not injured or in danger."

"Yeah, well, the last time you were in custody you were framed for double homicide. And then in the resulting chaos, you nearly died." He fingered the side of her head where, hidden under her hair, was a spiderweb of scars from a broken mirror, and the memories of a very bad night.

"And I was acquitted. And lived. Officer Davis just doesn't like me because he's a Koi enthusiast, and he thinks I'm stressing the fish out."

Bruce pulled back, "Wait, really?" Dusty nodded.

"He told me the first time I fell in. You know, with the Yemeni child smugglers? I also looked him up. He's one of the top benefactors to the Koi Society of Northern Gotham."

"Really? Well, at least he's dedicated to his craft," Bruce said. He stoked Dusty's cheek.

"Just… promise me that you won't do anything…" he paused, as if remembering who was talking to, "Try to stay under the radar. I couldn't…If something happened…"

"I love you, Bruce," Dusty said, gently cutting in, "And I promise I will do my uttermost to say safe."

He kissed her, long and slow. Even after almost seven years of marriage, her toes still curled, and an irrepressible smile spread across her cheeks. She felt his smile in return, and he pulled back and tweaked her nose.

"Now," he said, "we should go home and let you change. Then lunch. Feeling like seafood?"

* * *

Once again, thank you all so much for the love over the last DECADE of Dusty and Bruce. Long before it was published, I started writing The Guise of Reason as a 15 year old high school student with a fervent obsession with Batman, and I'm honored that so many people have shared that love with me.

Over the next year or so, I'll be publishing a couple of one-shots as my schedule permits. I am an oldy-moldy now with a real job, and an original novel that I'm trying to finish so I can attempt to publish it. However, my hope is that next year, armed with 11 years more life experience and a Bachelor's Degree in English, I'll be able to roll out a 10 year edition of The Guise of Reason itself on the 10 year anniversary of its finishing. There's a lot of work that will need to be done-including finishing my current manuscript to my original fiction-but it's something that I've wanted to do since I read it last year for the first time since it was published. My teenage self did an amazing job, so I will keep it up in its original form, but I'd love to polish it up and do it justice (pun intended).

Once again, thanks for all the love.

Best wishes,

~Jousting Elf With A Sabre


End file.
